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A Court of Mist and Fury

Book by Sarah J. Maas · 50 quotes · Feyre, A Court Of Mist And Fury, Sarah J Maas

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A Court of Mist and Fury Quotes

“First the shadows started- plumes of them from his back. And then, as if his rage loosened his grip on that beast he'd once told me he hated to yield to, those wings became flesh. Great, beautiful, brutal wings, membranous and clawed like a bat's, dark as night and strong as hell. Even the way he stood seemed altered- steadier, grounded. Like some final piece of him had clicked into place. But Rhysand's voice was still midnight-soft...”

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“The bond between us went taut, and my lingering mental shields collapsed. And for a heartbeat, just as it had happened Under the Mountain, I flashed from my body to his- from my eyes to his own. I had not realised... how I looked... My face was gaunt, my cheekbones sharp, my blue-grey eyes dull and smudged with purple beneath. The full lips- my father's mouth- were wan, and my collarbones jutted above the thick wool neckline of my sweater. I looked as if... as if rage and grief and despair had eaten me alive, as if I was again starved. Not for food, but... but for joy and life-”

MagicDepressionTraumaSarah J MaasFeyreFeyre ArcheronRhysandRhysA Court Of Mist And FuryGaunt
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“Since you're hell-bent on a sedentary lifestyle,' he said, 'I thought I'd go one step further and bring your food to you.' My stomach was already twisting with hunger, and I lowered the book into my lap. 'Thank you.' A short laugh. 'Thank you? Not "High lord and servant?" Or "Whatever it is you want, you can go shove it up your ass, Rhysand"?' He clicked his tongue. 'How disappointing.”

FunnySarah J MaasFeyreFeyre ArcheronRhysandThank YouRhysA Court Of Mist And FuryTeasingSedentary
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“I lifted the book, firing two words down the bond between us before I blasted my shields up again. Conversation over. 'Like hell it is,' he snarled. A thrum of power caressed my fingers, and then the book sealed shut between my hands. My nails dug into the leather and paper- to no avail. Bastard. Arrogant, presuming bastard. Slowly, I lifted my eyes to him. And I felt... not hot temper- but icy, glittering rage. I could almost feel that ice at my fingertips, kissing my palms. And I swore there was frost coating the book before I hurled it at his head. He shielded fast enough that it bounced away and slid across the marble floor behind us. 'Good,' he said, his breathing a bit uneven. 'What else do you have, Feyre?' Ice melted to flame, and my fingers curled into fists. And the High Lord of the Night Court honestly looked relieved at the sight of it- of that wrath that made me want to rage and burn. A feeling, for once. Not like that hollow cold and silence. And the thought of returning to that manor with the sentries and the patrols and the secrets... I sank back into my chair. Frozen once more. 'Any time you need someone to play with,' Rhys said, pushing the plate toward me on a star-flecked wind, 'whether it's during our marvellous week together or otherwise, you let me know.' I couldn't muster up a response, exhausted from the bit of temper I'd shown. And I realised I was in a free fall with no end. I had been for a while. From the moment I'd stabbed that Fae youth in the heart.”

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“That girl who had needed to be protected, who had craved stability and comfort... she had died Under the Mountain. I had died, and there had been no one to protect me from those horrors before my neck snapped. So I had done it myself. And I would not, could not, yield that part of me that had awoken and transformed Under the Mountain. Tamlin had gotten his powers back, had become whole again- become that protector and provider her wished to be. I was not the human girl who needed coddling and pampering, who wanted luxury and easiness. I didn't know how to go back to craving those things. To being docile.”

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“Please- please take care of her.' Alis. From right by my ear, the other replied, 'Consider yourself very, very lucky that your High Lord was not here when we arrived. Your guards will have one hell of a headache when they wake up, but they're alive. Be grateful.' Mor. Mor held me- carried me. The darkness guttered long enough that I could draw breath, that I could see the garden door she walked toward. I opened my mouth, but she peered down at me and said, 'Did you think his shield would keep us from you? Rhys shattered it with half a thought.' But I didn't spy Rhys anywhere- not as the darkness swirled back in. I clung to her, trying to breathe, to think. 'You're free,' Mor said tightly. 'You're free.' Not safe. Not protected. Free. She carried me beyond the garden, into the fields, up a hill, down it, and into- into a cave- I must have started bucking and thrashing in her arms, because she said, 'You're out; you're free,' again and again and again as true darkness swallowed us. Half a heartbeat later, she emerged into sunlight- bright, strawberry-and grass-scented sunlight. I had a thought that this might be Summer, then- Then a low, vicious growl split the air between us, cleaving even my darkness. 'I did everything by the book,' Mor said to the owner of that growl. I was passed from her arms to someone else's, and I struggled to breathe, fought for any trickle of air down my lungs. Until Rhysand said, 'Then we're done here.' Wind tore at me, along with ancient darkness. But a sweeter, softer shade of night caressed me, stroking my nerves, my lungs, until I could at last get air inside, until it seduced me into sleep.”

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“When I go back...' 'As your presence here isn't part of our monthly arrangement, you are under no obligation to go back.' He rubbed at his temple. 'Unless you wish to.' The question settled in me like a stone sinking to the bottom of a pool. There was such quiet in me, such... nothingness. 'He locked me in that house,' I managed to say. A shadow of mighty wings spread behind Rhys's chair. But his face was calm as he said. 'I know. I felt you. Even with your shields up- for once.' I made myself meet his stare. 'I have nowhere else to go.' It was both a question and a plea. He waved a hand, the wings fading. 'Stay here for however long you want. Stay here forever, if you feel like it.' 'I- I need to go back at some point.' 'Say the word, and it's done.' He meant it, too. Even if I could tell from the ire in his eyes that he didn't like it. He'd bring me back to the Spring Court the moment I asked. Bring me back to silence, and those sentries, and a life of doing nothing but dressing and dining and planning parties.”

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“I made you an offer when you first came here: help me, and food, shelter, clothing... All of it is yours.' I'd been a beggar in the past. The thought of doing it now... 'Work for me,' Rhysand said. 'I owe you, anyway. And we'll figure out the rest day by day, if need be.' I looked toward the mountains, as if I could see all the way to the Spring Court in the south. Tamlin would be furious. He'd shred the manor apart. But he'd... he'd locked me up. Either he so deeply misunderstood me or he'd been so broken by what went on Under the Mountain, but... he'd locked me up. 'I'm not going back.' The words rang in me like a death knell. 'Not- not until I figure things out.' I shoved against the wall of anger and sorrow and outright despair as my thumb brushed over the vacant band of skin where that ring had once sat. One day at a time. Maybe- maybe Tamlin would come around. Heal himself, that jagged wound of festering fear. Maybe I'd sort myself out. I didn't know. But I did know that if I stayed in that manor, if I was locked up one more time... It might finish the breaking that Amarantha had started. Rhysand summoned a mug of hot tea from nowhere and handed it to me. 'Drink it.' I took the mug, letting its warmth soak into my stiff fingers. He watched me until I took a sip, and then went back to monitoring the mountains. I took another sip- peppermint and... liquorice and another herb or spice. I wasn't going back. Maybe I'd never even... gotten to come back. Not from Under the Mountain.”

TraumaSarah J MaasFeyreFeyre ArcheronRhysandRhysA Court Of Mist And FuryTamlinLocked UpNot Going Back
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“And I saw how I would spend the next few days in solitude, with nothing to do and only my own, horrible thoughts for company. I began speaking before I could reconsider. 'Take me with you.' Rhys halted as he pushed through two purple gossamer curtains. And slowly, he turned back. 'You should rest.' 'I've rested enough,' I said, setting down the empty mug and standing. My head spun slightly. When had I last eaten? 'Wherever you're going, whatever you're doing- take me along. I'll stay out of trouble. Just... Please.' I hated the last word, choked on it. It had done nothing to sway Tamlin. For a long moment, Rhys said nothing. Then he prowled toward me, his long stride eating up the distance and his face set like stone. 'If you come with me, there is no going back. You will not be allowed to speak of what you see to anyone outside of my court. Because if you do, people will die- my people will die. So if you come, you will have to lie about it forever; if you return to the Spring Court, you cannot tell anyone there what you see, and who you meet, and what you will witness. If you would rather not have that between you and- your friends, then stay here.' Stay here, stay locked up in the Spring Court... My chest was a gaping, open wound. I wondered if I'd bleed out from it- if a spirit could bleed out and die. Maybe that had already happened. 'Take me with you,' I breathed. 'I won't tell anyone what I see. Even- them.' I couldn't bear to say his name. Rhys studied me for a few heartbeats. And finally he gave me a half smile. 'We leave in ten minutes. If you want to freshen up, go ahead.' An unusually polite reminder that I probably looked like the dead. I felt like it. But I said, 'Where are we going?' Rhys's smile widened into a grin. 'To Velaris- the City of Starlight.”

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“I listened to the crackling fire, the chirp of birds in the garden's potted evergreens- so different from the spring-sweet melodies I was used to. That I might never hear or be able to endure again. Maybe Amarantha had won after all. And some strange, new part of me wondered if my never returning might be a fitting punishment for him. For what he had done to me.”

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“She might be older than this city, but she's vain, and likes to hoard her baubles and belongings like a firedrake in a cave. So... be on your guard. You both have tempers when provoked, and I don't want you to have any surprises tonight.' Some part of me didn't want to know what manner of creature, exactly, she was. 'So if we get into a brawl and I rip off her necklace, she'll roast and eat me?' He chuckled. 'No- Amren would do far, far worse things than that. The last time Amren and Mor got into it, they left my favourite mountain retreat in cinders.' He lifted a brow. 'For what it's worth, I'm the most powerful High Lord in Prythian's history, and merely interrupting Amren is something I've only done once in the past century.' The most powerful High Lord in history. In the countless millennia they had existed here in Prythian, Rhys- Rhys with his smirking and sarcasm and bedroom eyes... And Amren was worse. And older than five thousand years... I waited for the fear to hit; waited for my body to shriek to find a way to get out of this dinner, but... nothing. Maybe it'd be a mercy to be ended- A broad hand gripped my face- gently enough not to hurt, but hard enough to make me look at him. 'Don't you ever think that,' Rhysand hissed, his eyes livid. 'Not for one damned moment.”

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“When I was a boy,' Rhys said in my ear, 'I'd sneak out of the House of Wind by leaping out my window- and I'd fly and fly all night, just making loops around the city, the river, the sea. Sometimes I still do.' 'Your parents must have been thrilled.' 'My father never knew- and my mother...' A pause. 'She was Illyrian. Some nights, when she caught me right as I leaped out the window, she'd scold me... and then jump out herself to fly with me until dawn.' 'She sounds lovely,' I admitted. 'She was,' he said. And those two words told me enough about his past that I didn't pry.”

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“You can barely sleep through the night,' he said carefully. I retorted, 'Neither can you.' But he just plowed ahead, 'You can barely handle being around other people-' 'You promised.' My voice cracked. And I didn't care that I was begging. 'I need to get out of this house.' 'Have Bron take you and Ianthe on a ride-' 'I don't want to go for a ride!' I splayed my arms. 'I don't want to go for a ride, or a picnic, or pick wildflowers. I want to do something. So take me with you.”

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“Wind and night and stars wheeled by as he winnowed us through the world, and the calluses of his hand scratched against my own fading ones before- Before sunlight, not starlight, greeted me. Squinting at the brightness, I found myself standing in what was unmistakably a foyer of someone's house. The ornate red carpet cushioned the one step I staggered away from him as I surveyed the warm, wood-panelled walls, the artwork, the straight, wide oak staircase ahead. Flanking us were two rooms: on my left, a sitting room with a black marble fireplace, lots of comfortable, elegant, but worn furniture, and bookshelves built into every wall. On my right; a dining room with a long, cherrywood table big enough for ten people- small, compared to the dining room at the manor. Down the slender hallway ahead were a few more doors, ending in one that I assumed would lead to a kitchen. A town house. ... This house... this house was a home that had been lived in and enjoyed and cherished.”

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“I might be a shameless flirt, but at least I don't have a horrible temper. You should come tend to my wounds from our squabble in the snow. I'm bruised all over thanks to you. Something clicked against the nightstand, and a pen rolled across the polished mahogany. Hissing, I snatched it up and scribbed: Go lick your wounds and leave me be. The paper vanished. It was gone for a while- far longer than it should have taken to write the few words that appeared on the paper when it returned. I'd much rather you licked my wounds for me. My heart pounded, faster and faster, and a strange sort of rush went through my veins as I read the sentence again and again. A challenge. I clamped my lips shut to keep from smiling as I wrote, Lick you where exactly? The paper vanished before I'd even completed the final mark. His reply was a long time coming. Then, Wherever you want to lick me, Feyre. I'd like to start with "Everywhere," but I can choose, if necessary. I wrote back, Let's hope my licking is better than yours. I remember how horrible you were at it Under the Mountain. Lie. He'd licked away my tears when I'd been a moment away from shattering. He'd done it to keep me distracted- keep me angry. Because anger was better than feeling nothing; because anger and hatred were the long-lasting fuel in the endless dark of my despair. The same way that music had kept me from breaking. Lucien had come to patch me up a few times, but no one risked quite so much in keeping me not only alive, but as mentally intact as I could be considering the circumstances. Just as he'd been doing these past few weeks- taunting and teasing me to keep the hollowness at bay. Just as he was doing now. I was under duress, his next note read. If you want, I'd be more than happy to prove you wrong. I've been told I'm very, very good at licking. I clenched my knees together and wrote back, Good night. A heartbeat later, his note said, Try not to moan too loudly when you dream about me. I need my beauty rest. I got up, chucked the letter in the burbling fire, and gave it a vulgar gesture. I could have sworn laughter rumbled down the hall.”

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“Cassian was sizing up Nesta, a gleam in his eyes that I could only interpret as a warrior finding himself faced with a new, interesting opponent. Then, Mother above, Nesta shifted her attention to Cassian, noticing that gleam- what it meant. She snarled softly. 'What are you looking at?' Cassian's brows rose- little amusement to be found now. 'Someone who let her younger sister risk her life every day in the woods while she did nothing. Someone who let a fourteen-year-old child go out into that forest, so close to the wall.' My face began heating, and I opened my mouth. To say what, I don't know. 'Your sister died- died to save my people. She is willing to do so again to protect you from war. So don't expect me to sit here with my mouth shut while you sneer at her for a choice she did not get to make- and insult my people in the process.' Nesta didn't bat an eyelash as she studied the handsome features, the muscled torso. Then turned to me. Dismissing him entirely. Cassian's face went almost feral. A wolf who had been circling a doe... only to find a mountain cat wearing its hide instead.”

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“Maybe you should... go.' 'Why? You seemed so insistent that I train you.' 'I can't concentrate with you around,' I admitted. 'And go... far. I can feel you from a room away.' A suggestive curve shaped his lips. I rolled my eyes. 'Why don't you just hide in one of those pocket realms for a bit.' 'It doesn't work like that. There's no air there.' I gave him a look to say he should definitely do it then, and he laughed. He jerked his chin at my tattoo. 'Give a shout down the bond if you get anything accomplished before breakfast.' I frowned at the eye in my palm. 'What- literally shout at the tattoo?' 'You could try rubbing it on certain body parts and I might come faster.' He vanished into nothing before I could hurl the candle at him. Alone in the frost-gilded forest, I replayed his words and a quiet chuckle rasped out of me.”

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“Then Nesta asked, 'Your High Lord... You went through all that' -she waved a hand at me, my ears, my body- 'and it still did not end well?' I was heavy in my veins again. 'That lord built a wall to keep the Fae out. My High Lord wanted to keep me caged in.' 'Why? He let you come back here all those months ago.' 'To save me- protect me. And I think... I think what happened to him, to us, Under the Mountain broke him,' Perhaps more than it had broken me. 'The drive to protect at all costs, even my own wellbeing... I think he wanted to stifle it, but he couldn't. He couldn't let go of it.' There was... there was much I still had to do, I realised. To settle things. Settle myself.”

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“You told me that this city was better seen at night. Are you all talk, or will you ever bother to show me?' A low laugh as he looked me over. I didn't recoil from his gaze. When his eyes found mine again, his mouth twisted into a smile so few saw. Real amusement- perhaps a little bit of happiness edged with relief. The male behind the High Lord's mask. 'Dinner,' he said. 'Tonight. Let's find out if you, Feyre darling, are all talk- or if you'll allow a Lord of Night to take you out on the town.”

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“When are you going to talk about how you wrote a letter to Tamlin, telling him you've left for good?' The question hit me so viciously that I sniped, 'How about when you talk about how you tease and taunt Mor to hide whatever it is you feel for her?' Because I had no doubt that he was well aware of the role he played in their little tangled web. ... Cassian let out a startled, rough laugh. 'Old news.' 'I have a feeling that's what she probably says about you.' ... But the question he'd asked swarmed in my skull. You've left for good, you've left for good, you've left for good. I had- I'd meant it. But without knowing what he thought, if he'd even care that much... No, I knew he'd care. He'd probably trashed the manor in his rage. If my mere mention of him suffocating me had caused him to destroy his study, then this... I had been frightened by those fits of pure rage, cowed by them. And it had been love- I had loved him so deeply, so greatly, but...”

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“I'd been in love, and I'd meant it- the happiness, the lust, the peace... I'd felt all of those things. Once. ... But maybe those things had blinded me, too. Maybe they'd been a blanket over my eyes about the temper. The need for control, the need to protect that ran so deep he'd locked me up. Like a prisoner.”

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“I made to jump off the stone, but he gripped my chin, the movement too fast to detect. His words were a lethal caress as he said, 'Did you enjoy the sight of me kneeling before you?' I knew he could hear my heart as it ratcheted into a thunderous beat. I gave him a hateful little smirk, anyway, yanking my chin out of his touch and leaping off the stone. I might have aimed for him feet. And he might have shifted out of the way just enough to avoid it. 'Isn't that all you males are good for, anyway?' But the words were tight, near breathless. His answering smile evoked silken sheets and jasmine-scented breezes at midnight.”

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“A large main room, with a small, shut door in the back. Floor-to-ceiling shelves lined the walls, crammed with bric-a-brac; books, shells, dolls, herbs, pottery, shoes, crystals, more books, jewels... From the ceiling and wood rafters hung all manner of chains, dead birds, dresses, ribbons, gnarled bits of wood, strands of pearls... A junk shop- of some immortal horder. And that hoarder... In the gloom of the cottage, there sat a large spinning wheel, cracked and dulled with age. And before that ancient spinning wheel, her back to me, sat the Weaver. Her thick hair was of richest onyx, tumbling down to her slender waist as she worked the wheel, snow-white hands feeding and pulling the thread around a thorn-sharp spindle. She looked young- her grey gown simple but elegant, sparkling faintly in the dim forest light through the windows as she sang in a voice of glittering gold.”

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“Above her young, supple body, beneath her black, beautiful hair, her skin was grey- wrinkled and sagging and dry. And where eyes should have gleamed instead lay rotting black pins. Her lips had withered to nothing but deep, dark lines around a hole full of jagged stumps of teeth- like she had gnawed on too many bones. And I knew she would be gnawing on my bones soon if I did not get out. Her nose- perhaps once pert and pretty, now half-caved in- flared as she sniffed in my direction.”

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“Nesta is a delight, by the way.' 'She's... her own creature,' I said. It was perhaps the kindest thing I could say about her. 'It's been a few centuries since someone got under Cassian's skin that easily. 'Too bad they're both inclined to kill the other.' Part of me shuddered at the havoc the two would wreak if they decided to stop fighting.”

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“I'm bored. Any sparks yet? ... No, you snoop. Don't you have important things to do? ... I'm watching Cassian and Nesta get into it again over their tea. Something you subjected me to when you kicked me off training. I thought this was our day off. ... Poor baby High Lord. Life is so hard. ... Life is better when you're around. And look at how lovely your handwriting is. ... You're a shameless flirt.”

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“Tamlin remained asleep as I crept back into my darkened bedroom, his naked body sprawled across the mattress. For a moment, I just admired the powerful muscles of his back, so lovingly traced by moonlight, his golden hair, mussed with sleep and the fingers I'd run through it while we made love earlier. For him, I had done this- for him, I'd gladly wrecked myself and my immortal soul. And now I had an eternity to live with it.”

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“...sometimes I wondered if I heard his breath catch, only for a heartbeat. I never had the nerve to ask if he was awake. He never woke when the nightmares dragged me from sleep; never woke when I vomited my guts up night after night. If he knew of heard, he said nothing about it. I knew similar dreams chased him from slumber as often as I fled from mine. The first time it happened, I'd awoken- tried to speak to him. But he'd shaken off my touch, his skin clammy, and had shifted into that beast of fur and claws and horns and fangs. He'd spent the rest of the night sprawled across the foot of the bed, monitoring the door, the wall of windows. He'd since spent many nights like that.”

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“But even if stability reigned for a hundred years, I doubted I'd ever awaken one morning and not put on the knife. A hundred years. I had that- I had centuries ahead of me. Centuries with Tamlin, centuries in this beautiful, quiet place. Perhaps I'd sort myself out sometime along the way. Perhaps not.”

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